


Angelic radio: Home.

by Yeziel_Moore



Series: Dancing With Angels [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeziel_Moore/pseuds/Yeziel_Moore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry tuned in a very special station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angelic radio: Home.

**Author's Note:**

> I while ago I saw "The song remains the same" in which Anna reappears (and is a bitch but that's beside the point). That made me remember the first time she appeared and whoala! Instant idea. Sort of.

  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't and will never own Harry Potter or Supernatural.  
_ **Words:** _672._

* * *

 

For a very long time Harry had been able to hear things.

Voices, to be precise.

As a child, he had tried uncharacteristically hard to ignore them, because that was the kind of freaky thing his family hated and, at that time, all he had wanted for himself was to be accepted by them, loved if possible. It never happened. They had never loved him and they never would. He realized that truth when he was six years old and once more slowly freezing to death because his uncle had decided to lock him outside as punishment for… existing, most probably. Harry snorted at his dark thoughts and curled in on himself a bit more. November was cold as Hell.

For the first time in his short life Harry closed his eyes, relaxed and just listened to the multitude of beautiful voices that were always on the back of his mind, like static. He stopped paying attention to his body and the fact that, in normal circumstances, he would be dead in a couple of hours. He knew he wouldn't. He hadn't died yet, after all.

It didn't take too long for Harry to realize that he was eavesdropping on angels.  _Angels!_

He had been ecstatic for a while, the best while of his life to be honest, until he realized that all the unrest he had been hearing about was his fault. The guilt had been crushing afterwards. He had learnt to treasure those moments when he could just sit quietly and listen, he had imagined countless scenarios in which the conversations may have been taking place, thousands of things he would love to say if only he could gather the courage to speak. It had been his little slice of Heaven -no pun intended- in the hellish loneliness of his life.

That was before he found out just how little angels liked humans. Then he was afraid and angered because angels weren't supposed to be like that, right? They weren't supposed to be barely reigning in their eagerness for the Apocalypse to arrive. It wasn't right. Except that, apparently, that was the truth.

He still couldn't stop himself from listening though. He consoled himself by thinking that if the angels wanted humanity to end then it was for the best if he was prepared. Right? Right.

He was nine now and he had been eavesdropping on Heaven's grapevine for the best part of six years. Sometimes the sharp but soothing lilt of the voices was the only things that kept him mostly grounded and going when otherwise he would've preferred not to bother anymore. Other times he became so angry that all he wanted was to rage and rave to the angels about their shared stupidity and how it was clear that they knew jack squat about humans in general. They knew even less than him and he knew so little thanks to his almost absolute isolation courtesy of his family and himself that he may as well be from another species altogether.

He kept silent, however. He didn't know what could happen if he managed to insert himself in one of those conversations. At the very least they would find him and then he would be dead in no time, he was certain of it. Harry was aware of how dangerous this was, how reckless and counterproductive to his continued survival but, for the life of him, he couldn't stop.

So yes, it may've been stupid and reckless and it would probably cost him his life one day, but none of that mattered because, even if he had no idea of why he risked it, even if it only lasted minutes, he would give up everything to keep these moments going. Those memories were his most treasured belongings, the only time in his life that he felt like he belonged somewhere. Even if he was as unwelcomed in Heaven as he was on Earth, it still felt like Home and that was all that mattered.


End file.
